Angels: Clarisse's Story
by Nabiko
Summary: In her one moment of weakness, Clarisse McClellan remembers how she came to be a social outcast. A Fahrenheit 451 oneshot.


Well… this started out as a school project… personally, I hated the book Fahrenheit 451 (by Ray Bradbury) but I had to write a story about what made Clarisse the way she is today… so this is what came out.  There is a quote in here from my favourite book what happened to lani graver (by carol plum-ucci)

_"We're all dying, baby, but we're all living too…"_

okay, this starts out as a moment of reflection by our favourite subconscious rebel, but eventually turns into something more…

disclaimer:  copyright Ray Bradbury… he owns everybody, I just came up with the plot (save for the end)

.oOo.

It was raining.

The rain poured down in sheets, each droplet landing with a _splat_ that was echoed by another drop nearby.  Great puddles formed on the ground, turning slightly brown from the mud and occasionally flowing over into the drains when they got too full.

The sky was dark and the air was cold.  The only light on the streets was from the windows or doorsteps of the houses, and even then drapes or blinds muted it.  The lights of the city glittered in the distance like a faint reminder of the stars hidden by clouds.

Clarisse McClellan stood in the middle of the street and watched the rainfall.  It didn't bother her that muddy water splashed on her shoes or dress.  It didn't bother her that her hair was sodden down and had been for some time now.  In fact, the rain didn't seem to bother her at all.  The girl merely stood in the middle of the street with her arms at her sides and her dark eyes staring at nothing as the rain fell.

.oOo.

"Clarisse?  Clarisse, where are you, girl?"  He called, peering around the doorway.

"Mark, what are you doing?"  The soft voice of Mrs. McClellan echoed through the kitchen as she stirred dinner slowly.

Mark turned his head quickly, as if he hadn't noticed she was there.  "Oh, nothing... nothing... just looking for little Clarisse again... you don't think she's hiding again, do you?  Oh dear, maybe I shouldn't have told her about Hide and Seek after all... silly game, silly children..."  he turned from the doorway, still muttering to himself, and disappeared into the hall.

Mrs. McClellan shook her head, sighing to herself yet smiling at the same time.

Mark McClellan walked through the house, calling his niece's name occasionally and peering into doorways.  It wasn't until he reached the doorway at the end of the hall that he emitted a loud, "HA!"  and stormed into the room.

He quickly grabbed at his niece and wrapped his fingers around her sides.  The tiny girl shrieked loudly and giggled as he lifted her into the air and tickled her without mercy.  When they were both out of breath, he set her down on the tiny bed by the wall and collapsed next to her, breathing heavily with a satisfied smile on his face.

When her giggles slowly faded away she sat quietly, not quite making eye contact despite her uncle's repeated attempts.

"You going to tell me why a little child like yourself was crying, or do I need to tickle it out of you?"  he asked.

"I wasn't crying... I was..." she trailed off, not quite sure what kind of an excuse to come up with.  She knew he'd seen her when he entered the doorway.  The little girl fingered one of her braids and stared at her hand in her lap.

Mark was amazed, yet not surprised to see how maturely the little seven-year old was acting.  After all, she _was_ his niece, right?  He'd lived with her family--her _real_ family, that is, not those pointless screens on the walls--since before she was born.  He hadn't been able to raise a family since he couldn't even start one.  He hadn't had any luck with the women.  Who'd want a dreamer who was too lazy for work, anyway?  They'd never be able to buy a wall or one of those new Seashells everyone was talking about; they'd never be able to afford a family.  So he'd just stayed with his brother and his sister-in-law, who happily accepted him.

He had a slight suspicion that he'd driven them crazy at one point.  Neither of them _ever_ wanted to hear any of the stories he'd heard about the past... he'd tried so hard to tell them all about the wonderful ways the people back then lived.  Unfortunately, neither of the two was interested in hearing about seatbelts or libraries...

When Clarisse was born, he'd finally found an outlet.  The child was beautiful, with shiny brown hair and pale skin, and some of the darkest eyes he'd seen in a long while.  Those eyes you could practically drown yourself in, they took in every bit of the world like it was something new.

When she'd gotten old enough to enjoy sitting alone with him, he'd started telling her stories.  Most of them were what he called "fairy tales", the stories about the past that were so fantastic, so wonderful that it was almost impossible to believe.  

Almost.

Once again, he found himself sitting next to the little girl.  He was startled to note that she'd started sniffling while he'd dazed off.  He reached an arm around and pulled her into him tight, reassuring her in a way only uncles could do.  "Alright, come on.  Tell uncle why you're trying to hide tears."

"Well... today..."  Clarisse rubbed her eyes quickly.  "today they told me that Sammy died."

"And how does that make you feel?"  Mark asked gently.

"It makes me... scared.  And mad.  Very mad."  She slapped one thigh to emphasize her point.

Mark held back a chuckle at her childish determination.  Instead, he pressed on, "And why does it make you angry?"

The little girl stared at the wall in front of her, as if looking for an answer but not quite receiving one.  "It makes me mad because they didn't act sad about it.  They just told me and left me all alone."

"Baby girl, these days people just don't understand their feelings.  Do you know how lucky you are to still have feelings?"  She scooted closer to him, already sensing a story and ready to listen.

"I'm very lucky to still have emotions and think for myself and be the way I am.  Amen."  She recited.  Mark smiled at her addition to the saying.

"That's right.  Once Upon a Time, everybody had feelings.  They cried when they were sad and yelled when they were angry.  When they were happy they laughed and when they had something to say, they said it.  It was a wonderful time, because everybody was themselves and no one else."

Clarisse nodded gently, imagining such a perfect world.  She compared it to her image of her own world and shuddered.  It was like putting rainbows against death.  She definitely preferred the rainbows, and would have said so out loud, until she remembered that rainbows were almost a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.  That made them even more special.

"Uncle, when Sammy died, where did she go?"  She looked up at him with those big, dark, haunting eyes that trapped him immediately.

"Well, baby girl, there's a million places she could have gone.  She was a good girl, right?"  His niece nodded enthusiastically.

"A long time ago-"

"Once Upon a Time?"  She interrupted.

He chuckled.  "Yes, Once Upon a Time, everybody believed in a person called God.  This God lived in a place called Heaven, which rested in the clouds so that all of his helpers--called angels--could watch over the humans and protect them.  It's said that when a human died, their soul was brought to heaven, so that they could live forever in happiness."

"Not the same angels as those Keep-Your-House-Safe machines, right?"

"No, those are a false kind of angel.  Those are just home security systems; these angels were real.  They had big white wings and were very kind.  They protected people until it was their time to go to heaven."

"Oh.  So..." Clarisse processed this concept in her head, "Sammy went to Heaven?"

"Oh yes.  As long as she was a good girl, I'm sure she went to Heaven accompanied by all of God's most beautiful angels."  Mark could feel the girl slowly relaxing at his side.

Her voice came out quietly this time, hesitant and almost... afraid.

"Am I going to die?"

.oOo.

_"We're all dying, baby girl, but we're all living, too."  _Clarisse repeated to herself, remembering her uncle's words ten years ago.  Ten years ago... ten years ago Montag would have first started working as a fireman.  Would he have met Mildred by then?  He hadn't said.

She watched the rain fall heavily onto the streets, just as oblivious as to what it was hitting as the people were of their own ignorance.  Only, rain was all right, for the earth as well as the soul.  Sometimes, she felt like the world was crying for her, just by raining... it would do the world good, at least.  All those emotions, hidden and destroyed by years of walls and seashells, beetles and Fun Parks.

So much ignorance.

She waited in the rain.  For how long, she didn't know.  At first, she thought she was waiting for Montag to come talk to her, like he had so many times before.  But for some reason, today felt different.  Like she had some kind of final thing to do.  But what could she do?  Standing out here, all alone in the rain…

Were those headlights coming at her?


End file.
